Over a Keg

Barry is desperate 300-word flash

Over a Keg

Barry’s cell phone rang. With difficulty, he pulled it out of his voluminous pants pocket. The voice on the other end was so soft and remote he strained to hear.
“Speak up, will you caller?” he finally roared into it.
“Hey, Barry-o, what you doing with yourself?”
“Who is this?” he asked irritably.
“Don’t get touchy! It’s me Carl Dewey, your agent.”
“Called to tell me you still have no work for me? I got my own gig. I’ll be in a barrel rolling on a high wire this time next week.”
“Seriously? Isn’t that a bit of a fall from fame, ole buddy?”
“It’s better than you have done for me lately, Dewdrop! Do me a favor, don’t call unless you have work for me!”
Barry hung up with difficulty as he began to feel nauseous. Maybe rolling down a gravel road in a closed in barrel was not the best practice idea he’d ever had! Then he felt his stomach drop
“Oh no, I’m headed downhill! I’m speeding up! How will I avoid disaster this time,” he whispered.
Suddenly, there was a jarring stop. A huge hole appeared in the barrel. The pointed end of a large boulder protruded into what was left of the barrel.
Gingerly, Barry popped out the other end and crawled out. An old man wearing a battered straw hat and chewing on a timothy stalk stood staring at him.
“Well, I seen one full of pickles, crackers and even one that held fish, but I fer sure never seen one filled with a man!” he drawled.
Barry grinned at him and stood up.
“Any chance me and my vehicle can get a ride?”
“Shore, I’ll bring mu truck.”
As he waited, Barry knew it had all been a bad idea.